What It Seems
by reset
Summary: [AU][DM/HP] Hearing word that a fair maiden is being held captive by a cruel dragon, recently knighted Sir Harry Potter sets out to rescue her, only to begin the biggest, most half-baked adventure of his life.


**What It Seems **

By Reset

**Disclaimer:** This is fan-fiction. Look at the word, analyze it, and realize that, as a fan, I obviously do not own anything.

**Summary:** [AU][DM/HP] Hearing word that a fair maiden is being held captive by a cruel dragon, recently knighted Sir Harry Potter sets out to rescue her, only to begin the biggest, most half-baked adventure of his life.

**Warnings:** Pretty much already covered it… its an alternate universe slashy romance with bad humor and its clearly labeled.

**Author's Note: (which really should be called "I'm a long-winded prat who enjoys talking about myself"):** I'm nervous about posting this for a couple reasons. The first being that I no longer have a beta, so I don't have any opinion, other than my own, about this fic (what's my opinion of this fic? It's stupid and weird… but I wrote it during a writer's block on a different, more serious piece than this one, so I didn't really expect much else…) and I have the habit of omitting information that is vital to the story because it's so firmly planted in my head that I forget that it's not common knowledge to everyone. Secondly, this is a new fandom and writing style for me, which makes me a bit unsure of myself, not to mention the fact that there isn't all that much AU Harry Potter fic (I'm not sure if this is because no one wants to write it, or no one wants to read it… XD). But I'm sure you didn't want to hear me go on and on about being insecure with myself, so please read and enjoy my fic. ^^

---

Sir Harry Potter was bored. Not just the kind of bored that happened on lazy summer days or waiting in line at the baker's for three hours while he prepared your favorite pastries (Harry had a preference for a particular flaky pastry that the baker was rarely willing to make, so he often had to wait), but a full on, completely sigh-worthy, never-ending tedium that had been grating on his nerves and sanity for weeks. He'd already groomed his horse, adjusted his horse's trappings, and even shined his armor twenty-seven times. He was running out of industrious, knightly things to do and **nothing** seemed to ease his boredom! 

The raven-haired male sighed, wondering when the excitement would begin. Where were the jousting tourneys and dragon slaying and never-ending adventures? Where were the beautiful women in dire situations?! During his diligent years of study, his dreams had been filled with all the wonderful, courageous things that consisted of a knight's life. He'd thought that when he finally became a knight, things would be more exciting; have a bit more oomph. He'd thought his life would be positively dripping with peril! 

He was wrong. 

Sure, there had been a celebration: he had liked that. After seven years of training and apprenticeship at the castle, Lord Dumbledore had announced him as one of the noble Knights of Hogwarts. Harry couldn't remember a day he had been happier. Just the memory made him flush with pride and have the urge to polish his armor again. 

But eventually, the excitement from his knighthood wore off and the boredom set in. Hogwarts was a generally peaceful place, and in any other circumstance, Harry would have been **thrilled, **practically** foaming **with joy, that his home and those he loved were so safe and tranquil. But as a knight (and a beginning knight at that!), a sworn protector of the peace, it meant that he had nothing to do. 

And in the rare occasion that something exciting did happen in Hogwarts, one of the more experienced knights was sent out to take care of the situation! How was he supposed to become an experienced knight if they never let him out of the horse stables! Not for the first time, Harry began regretting not being apprenticed in Beauxbatons. 

The Beauxbatons' knights were always off on adventures! Sure, most of their adventures consisted of questing to find earrings to match the princess's new lacey dress, or hunting the much-feared mice of the ballroom, but they got to ride their horses and look important! 

Suddenly, an image of himself the frilly, flamboyant Beauxbatons official knight uniform (complete with shoulder tassels!) came into his mind. No, he decided firmly, suppressing a shudder, Hogwarts' sturdy silver armor and heavy, steel-and-brass sword was just fine by him. Besides, his mother and father had served and died for Hogwarts. It just seemed right that he pledged his life to Dumbledore and his kingdom. And Harry Potter **liked** doing what was right. 

Which was why when a haggard looking messenger burst into the stables (Harry was just about to give his armor another coat of polish), Harry immediately went to assist him. It was just the right thing to do. 

--- 

The messenger was tired. No, he thought, he was more than tired. He was exhausted. Even worse than that, he complained to himself, his livery was **filthy**. As a servant in the lands of Slytherin, being tired and filthy was definitely not something he was used to. All the man wanted was to collapse onto a soft pile of hay somewhere and sleep for the next fifteen years. A blissful thought, really. So blissful, he'd barely even noticed when he stumbled off his fatigued horse (probably more weary than he, after three days of hard riding, not that the messenger cared…) and into the first building he came across on the outskirts of the Hogwarts castle. 

He'd barely fallen into the royal stables when an innocent looking boy had rushed towards him, settling him down onto the soft dirt floor and asking what was wrong. 

"Miss Parkinson," the messenger breathed out. Three days of riding and wearing dirty clothing was very trying on him and he needed to catch his breath! 

"Miss Parkinson? Are you Miss Parkinson, sir?" asked the naïve-looking boy who had ran to help him. 

The messenger turned towards the boy, beginning to regret his decision not to ride all the way to the castle. Hired help (excluding himself, of course) was always so terribly dense. "No, boy-" 

"Harry!" the boy broke in with enthusiasm, "My name is Harry, Miss Parkinson. Harry Potter." 

"Okay, fine, whatever, _Harry_! Miss Parkinson has been kidnapped," the messenger finally gasped out, thoroughly annoyed and wondering if the thickheaded boy had any water on him. His throat was awfully parched and if that boy expected him to keep talking, he'd need some liquid refreshment! 

Harry gasped, "You've been kidnapped?! By whom? When? Are they here? Are they-_are they_ _invisible_?!" 

Suddenly Harry began wildly thrashing his arms through the air, trying to attack the invisible enemies who had abducted this Miss Parkinson. As a knight of Hogwarts, it was his sworn duty to help her out, even if she was the _ugliest_ woman he had ever seen. 

"NO, NO, NO!" the messenger screamed, halting Harry's violent movements, "I am not Miss Parkinson! I am a loyal servant to the Parkinson family, here to seek the help of the Lord Dumbledore! Miss Parkinson has been kidnapped and she needs rescuing!!!" 

"Kidnapped?!" Harry repeated, a bit out of breath (attacking invisible enemies was hard work!), "By whom? When? Why?" 

"Water," replied the messenger. His throat suddenly felt very dry. 

"Water?" Harry gasped again, "This Miss Parkinson has been kidnapped by water? This is _most_ strange, most strange indeed. How does one go about fighting a kidnapper made of water? And to begin with, how does water kidnap one? And…" 

The messenger resisted the urge to slap the boy on the back of the head, wondering if there was something wrong with his head or if he was just daft. 

"No, Miss Parkinson was **not** kidnapped by water. She was kidnapped by the dragon prince, Draco Malfoy! I would like to get a **drink** of water, as it was a three-day journey here and I am **very** thirsty." 

"Oh! You'd like some water to drink! That's easy enough!" said Harry enthusiastically, running out the stable doors. The messenger had just began to speculate if such a twit of a boy could even find his way back, when Harry burst in with a chipped mug filled to the brim with water. Greedily, the messenger grabbed at the mug, swigging down all the water almost instantly. 

Harry smiled proudly, "I knew keeping that mug by the horse trough would come in handy one day!" 

At Harry's words, the messenger sputtered, spitting up a great deal of the water, "The horse trough? You got this water from the horse trough??" 

Harry wondered at the look of disgust on the man's face. He drank from the horse trough every day and he was all the better for it! He even flexed and posed, to prove to himself that he was tough and manly from drinking horse water. But of course one pose led to another and… 

"For Merlin's sake, boy! Stop your poncey show and get me to the Lord Dumbledore!!! I am in dire need of the services of him and his knights," the messenger cried sternly. 

"Oh!" immediately the boy's face brightened and he stopped posing, causing a feeling of dread to pass over the messenger like a thick sheet of mud, "You're in luck then, sir, for **I** am one of the knights you seek! Dumbledore is…" 

But Harry never got to finish his sentence, as the messenger had already fainted away, falling into the dirt and spilling the remainder of the horse water on his fine (but filthy!) livery. 

--- 

Dumbledore was calm. In general, he was known as a very composed, tranquil man whom many looked to for advice and support. Never once had the court seen him more than mildly upset about anything. And he liked things this way. Albus Dumbledore liked being known as a very calm man. But after Harry Potter, his newest and dearest Knight of Hogwarts, had burst into his hall, unconscious man slung across his shoulders, Dumbledore had began to get a little worried. 

Then Harry had explained the situation with such a woefully eager expression on his face, sprouting off about kidnappers and dragons and water being bad, that the old man couldn't help but feel apprehensive. 

And when the messenger had finally awoke and told Dumbledore what was really going on, he found himself nervous. Fidgety, even. 

Draco Malfoy, the feared and cruel dragon prince of the Slytherin lands, had kidnapped the young and unattached (the messenger had especially stressed the fact that the maiden was not married) Pansy Parkinson and the Parkinson family was desperate to have her back. Therefore, Dumbledore, the ruler and protector of all the lands within the Hogwarts Kingdom, was morally obligated to send at least one of his knights to rectify the situation. 

Dumbledore sighed. He did not want to do what he was just about to. 

He had known Harry Potter since he was just a scrappy little orphan boy with messy hair and big dreams. And after seven years, well, Dumbledore couldn't really tell the difference. Sure, Harry was bigger; every woman and about half of the men of the kingdom had noticed that. And he was a bit smarter, too; he had, after all, managed to make it to knighthood. But he was still the same innocent, naïve boy he had been. 

And this is what made Dumbledore very worried. 

Harry Potter was the only available Knight of Hogwarts in the entire kingdom. Every other one of his men was out on guard or adventuring or covered in a full-body cast and eating from a straw (Wood had a rather unfortunate habit of getting very badly hurt on every mission he was sent out on). 

It was with a rather foreboding sense of dread that Dumbledore called Harry to stand before him. 

"Harry," Dumbledore said firmly (much more firmly than he felt), "I leave it up to you to rescue the Lady Parkinson." 

"Me?!" cried Harry, incredulously. 

"HIM?!" cried the messenger, even more shocked. 

Dumbledore nodded sagely, "Harry is a perfectly capable knight and I am sure he will not let me down. Right, Harry?" 

Harry, frozen with shock, barely managed a weak nod. From the corner of his eye, he could see the messenger scowling rather fiercely. But that didn't frighten Harry! He was a Knight of Hogwarts and nothing scared him! Well, actually, he had seen a spider in his bed last week and had screamed like a seven year old, but he hardly saw how _that_ was relevant. 

And so it was that less than two hours later, Harry had set off for his three day journey from the Hogwarts castle to Malfoy Mountain on his trusty horse, Firebolt, to rescue the Lady Parkinson from the evil clutches of Draco Malfoy. He had offered to accompany the messenger back to the Parkinson's, but he had opted to take the long route, through the perilous mountains and across a barely-there, rickety old bridge, to avoid being on the same path as the poor knight. Rather rude, Harry had thought, adjusting his perfectly shiny armor so the evening sunlight glinted off it just right. 

--- 

By the time Harry arrived at the base of the foreboding Malfoy Mountain, he was tired. And his armor was no longer shiny. And Firebolt was plodding along at a snail's pace. Simply put, he had every right to be in an awful mood. But he wasn't. 

Harry Potter was a boy with a mission, and for this, he was happy. Very happy. In fact, he was so happy that he hadn't stopped grinning on his entire trip and those who had passed him by had called him possessed or a fool. But Harry didn't care, because he was on his very first adventure and nothing could get him down. Not the fact that he'd run out of food the first day, not that he'd also forgotten to pack his armor polish, and certainly not the ominous trail of skeletons leading up to the castle on the mountain. 

Ok, well maybe the skeletons bothered him a little. Alright, more than a little. In fact, if he hadn't caught the scent of what he presumed to be dinner wafting out of the Malfoy castle, he probably would have stayed outside, cowering behind Firebolt forever. Why, if he weren't a Knight of Hogwarts, Harry _might_ have considered himself a coward… But as it was, his stomach grumbled heavily and he inched a bit closer to the scent. And then a bit closer. And before he knew it, Harry had followed his nose (and the creepy trail of skeletons) up the mountain and into the dreaded Malfoy Castle, home of the horrible Draco Malfoy, prince of dragons and kidnapper of an innocent girl. 

Once inside the heavy, iron doors of the castle, Harry began to look around suspiciously. He'd never actually _seen_ a dragon, but he figured he'd know what one looked like when he saw it. Gnarled, greenish skin, rotting teeth: a dragon was sure to be repulsive on sight. Harry reasoned that nothing but a truly hideous, disgusting creature would steal a poor, innocent young maiden, such as Miss Parkinson, away from her family. 

Actually, he had never even heard of the Lady Parkinson before the messenger arrived in his stable and he and wasn't quite sure he could attest to her innocence. But she was a lady, and Harry presumed that all ladies were innocent and wonderful, and therefore all dragons were vile and detestable. 

So Harry kept his eyes to the corners and dark places looking for lime, oily skin and delicious smelling meals, occasionally reminding himself that he was also looking for a fair maiden to rescue from peril, as well. And it was while he was hopping around, searching for food and trying to avoid the dragon, that he heard a very high pitched, decidedly female scream. 

Working purely on instinct, Harry ran faster and harder than he ever had before… towards the exit. He was halfway back to his precious Firebolt before his conscious caught up to him. I must do the right thing, I'm a Knight of Hogwarts, and I must do the right thing, he chanted in his head, over and over again, until he had practically crawled back to the door of the room where he had heard the scream. But there was no screaming anymore. Instead, one of the most horrible sounds he had ever heard was coming from the room. Something like a gruesome combination between a horny gorilla and a dying cat. Whatever it was, Harry definitely did not want to deal with it. 

Still, his manly ego stung after he had chickened out earlier. And just picturing what that awful dragon might be doing to that fair maiden was almost too unbearable. So it was with a strange mixture of fear and pride that Harry burst into the room. And it was an even stranger thing that he saw when he rushed in. 

A two-headed blonde in a frilly pink dress doing jumping jacks. 

Harry shook his head. He may not have been the smartest of knights, but he did know a few things. The world was flat, bathing was only required once a month, and two-headed blondes in pink dresses did **not** do jumping jacks!! Realizing that his glasses were filthy and _probably_ the reason he was seeing something so preposterous, Harry took them off and wiped the lenses clean on the tablecloth before him. Ooooh, dinner, Harry's distracted brain thought as he breathed in the scent of the feast before him. It smelled even better up close than it had from outside!! 

For a moment, he entertained the thought of stuffing a few of the rolls in his pockets… and maybe some of the gravy to dip them in… and was that roast duck?! Harry practically drooled… 

"NO!" He yelled out in a rather loud voice, slamming his fist onto the table and knocking over one of the goblets, "I am Harry Potter, Knight of Hogwarts, and dinner shall not be my temptation!!!" 

Unfortunately, this roused the blonde-pink thing in the corner, alerting it to the presence of the knight. 

In a voice that dripped and oozed in a way that frightened Harry, one of the thing's heads spoke out, the other remaining frustratingly hidden, "A knight, you say? That sounds… tasty. Scrumptious. Delectable. A hot slab of man-meat!" 

Harry hastily slipped his glasses back on his nose, suddenly frightened at the prospect of becoming such a frightening creature's dinner. Harry squinted his eyes, staring at the creature. Now that he looked at it, drooling and staring at him predatorily, the blonde thing really was quite ugly. Kind of like a fat, dirty potato in a blonde wig. He shuddered thinking about what it's other blonde head looked like. Probably had a mouthful of sharp, pointy teeth and eyes that glowed red, he decided with a tremble. Harry withdrew his sword from its scabbard, and in one powerful arc, he slashed it in front of himself and struck a pose. 

"I am a Knight of Hogwarts, and as such, none shall beat me! Not even a freakish, two-headed blonde freak such as yourself!" Harry cried in a voice far braver than he felt. He wasn't sure if he had learned how to slay a hungry, two-headed blonde freak in his knight training. Or even if one was supposed to slay a two-headed blonde freak when one found it. Perhaps it was an endangered creature. You weren't supposed to kill those, he knew that much. 

"Foolish boy!" called the thing, fury radiating from its voice as it interrupted Harry's train of thought, "I am not a two-headed blonde freak!!!" 

The knight took this opportunity to look at _the _thing closer. Maybe it wasn't a two-headed blonde freak. In fact, he thought, perhaps _this_ is what a _dragon_ looked like. It certainly was **ugly**, and it had said he sounded tasty. Only a vile creature, such as a dragon, would want to kill an honest and noble knight! Yes, he decided, the freak was indeed a dragon. Well, a two-headed dragon in a pink frilly dress, but a dragon none the less. And as a sworn protector of the lands of Hogwarts, Harry was going to defeat it and rescue the Lady Parkinson!! 

Harry took a step closer to the dragon, trying to look bold and fearsome. 

Which was rather hard to do when one's enemy had split itself in two, Harry decided, knees shaking fitfully as he watched the dragon hurl half of itself into the corner in a heap. It was then that Harry realized that, no, it wasn't a two-headed blonde dragon in a frilly pink dress that he was fighting! It was **two** blonde-haired things standing _together_ wearing frilly pink dresses! Well, the one that was tossed in the corner was wearing a color more like mauve, if you thought about it. But Harry didn't really like to think about things like that because it ended up getting him distracted from- 

**SMACK! **

While Harry was still musing on why he shouldn't be thinking about colors in the middle of a fight, the blonde in the actual pink dress had come over and clubbed him with it's big, mannish fist. Before he could even think, Harry acted, taking his huge sword and smashing it onto the blonde-thing's head. It let out a terrible screech and then fell to the floor, unconscious. 

Harry sheathed his sword in victory, doing a little dance. It was then that what he had seen finally caught up to him. What he had presumed to be a two-headed blonde thing in a frilly pink dress was _actually_ the dragon prince trying to force himself on the helpless Lady Parkinson, whose scream of terror he had heard right before she fainted! It made such _perfect sense_ that Harry wondered why he hadn't thought of it in the first place. 

He also began to wonder why the prince of all dragons was wearing a frilly pink dress… 

But no matter! He had beaten Draco Malfoy and proven himself as a knight! 

"I, Harry Potter of the Knights of Hogwarts, have knocked out the feared and cruel dragon prince, Draco Malfoy! I am victorious!!" Harry called out to the mostly empty castle, saddened slightly that no one was there to congratulate him. It _was_ his first victory, it only seemed **right** that someone should be there to praise him for it. 

Then he remembered the unconscious Miss Parkinson in the corner. Perhaps if he roused her, she would congratulate him on his defeat of evil. Harry walked over to the corner and carefully flipped the mauve-clad body over. 

And instantly fell in love. This, he decided, staring almost perversely, was the _most beautiful_ face he had ever seen. Thin, pale, blonde… she was the absolute picture of delicate female beauty and everything Harry had dreamed about in his long years of training. Instantly, all thoughts of rousing the delicate woman were gone. Such a beauty as the Lady Parkinson deserved to sleep whenever she needed. She deserved flowers and poetry and the finest things money could buy and… And Harry thought he should probably get her off the cold, stone floor. 

"Oof," he said, hefting the lady up and over his shoulder, "For a lady, she's surprisingly heavy. No matter, though! I like my ladies with a bit of meat on them!" 

He paused for a moment, adjusting the blonde on his shoulder. 

"At least, I think I do." 

He stared longingly at the finely made meal on the table, before making his way out of the Malfoy castle, down Malfoy Mountain, and back to the safety of his trusty horse, Firebolt. 

--- 

The ride, Harry thought to himself, was certainly much more pleasant with the Lady Parkinson's soft, warm body in front of him. He cradled her gently to his chest, to keep her from jostling on the ride, and certainly not to cop a feel, he assured himself. And he had leaned forward to scout the trail, not to smell her hair! And he was nuzzling his face into the soft skin of her cheek because… well, because it was soft. 

Harry had just begun to start planning his and Miss Parkinson's wedding (for she'd surely want to marry the handsome and courageous knight who had rescued her from the clutches of evil!) when a sudden stirring from her previously inert body interrupted his daydreaming. Harry would have tried to savor the moment when the woman he loved first looked him in the eye, except said woman had elbowed him in the stomach rather fiercely. 

"Ow!!" cried Harry, pulling Firebolt to a stop. 

The blonde took the opportunity to jump off the horse and ask in a rather spiteful voice, "Just _what_ do you think you're doing?" 

"Pardon me," said Harry apologetically, jumping off of Firebolt to stand next to his lady, "But I've just rescued you from the horrid Draco Malfoy, and I was rather hoping you might want to marry me, Miss Parkinson because-" 

"**PANSY**? You think I'm _Pansy_?" the blonde practically shrieked. 

"I did not call you a pansy, lady," said Harry confusedly, "But, if you would like, perhaps I could liken your beauty to that of a pansy… Your skin is-" 

"I am **NOT** a lady!" Harry couldn't help but notice that Miss Parkinson's face was getting very red and that it made her slightly less attractive. Rather like a tomato, actually… 

"Of course you're a lady, Miss Parkinson! I rescued you from Draco Malfoy myself!" Harry puffed up proudly, furiously wishing that his armor had been shinier. 

"I AM DRACO MALFOY, YOU ASS!!" 

Harry looked his hopefully future-bride up and down carefully. She was breathing angrily and her face could have broken glass, but she did not look even the slightest bit like the unconscious body he had left on Malfoy Mountain. Well, except the hair, but that didn't really count. 

"You certainly don't _look_ like Draco Malfoy." 

"Of course I _look_ like Draco Malfoy! I **am** Draco Malfoy!! Look at me! I'm a **guy**, a **fellow**!" and to emphasis his point, the blonde stripped his clothes, giving Harry _quite_ solid proof that he was, in fact, a man. 

**TBC… **

--- 

Wow, it's painfully obvious that I have no knowledge of knights, at all. Painfully. One may wonder what made me think I could write a fic about a knight, then. Well, that's because I'm a jackass. 

Pardon me for my horribly bad, incredibly stupid, almost-humor (and my semi-bashing of poor Pansy… *sniffles*). It was terribly fun to write and I couldn't resist. I think the next chapter will make a bit more sense… or not… Really, I think it'll be quite the feat if I get my lazy ass around to writing a next chapter. ^^ 


End file.
